I know.  I know.  It’s only January.  So why, you ask, is there a Valentines-themed cookie bouquet adorning this blog post?  I’m glad you asked.

After posting photos of the Halloween and Thanksgiving sugar cookies I made, I was asked if I’d consider filling an order for some Valentine cookies.  But being one of those pesky perfectionist types, I did it one further and created this super cute–even if I do say so myself–cookie bouquet.  This was my first attempt and, honestly, I wish I’d doubled the batch so that I could have practiced a few other decorating ideas.  That said, I suppose this practice batch turned out pretty well, considering.

As for why I decided to post it?  I figured that since I’m already going to be filling a couple of orders for these, I might as well throw it out as an option on the ol’ blog and see if there’s any further interest.  My cookie bouquets include five 4″ from-scratch sugar cookie “pops”, baked using all natural ingredients, including real vanilla bean.  Sometimes cutesy sweets aren’t as tasty as they are pleasing to the eye, but these cookies are an exception; they are absolutely divine.  I’m pricing the bouquets at $35 each and will be accepting orders until February 10th.  If you’re local and you’d like one, send an email to me at, Darcie {at} suchthespot {dot} {com} .  Orders will be available for pick-up on Feb. 13th or 14th at either Raytheon or the Fry’s at Rita and Houghton.

Exciting, right?!

Anyway, pardon this interruption.  Now back to my regularly-scheduled posting ;)

Confession: Jeff and I are New Years Eve party poopers.  Our idea of living it up on that one night a year is to cozy up in our pj pants and play a game of Scrabble.  If we’re feeling saucy we might even raise a glass of bubbly and toast to health, happiness, and prosperity in the new year.  Rarely, though, do we actually, you know, see the clock strike midnight.  I’m telling you: party. poopers.

Last night was a bit of an exception.  We were awake at midnight, albeit in bed.  Get your minds out of the gutter, people.  Stay with me here.  We’d just crawled under the covers and were lying there talking and listening as the neighbors shot off their obligatory countdown fireworks.  I wondered aloud if worrying what the new year would bring was something that came with age.  Jeff assured me it was not.  And then he proceeded to relay to me the Aesop’s fable he’d been reading with Jayce–the story of a little fir tree that habitually wishes away the here and the now in favor of what is soon to come.  It was fitting.

Not that I’m wishing away the here and the now.  I’m not.  But I am inclined to worry.

Which, of course, brings me to my resolution.  With the arrival of 2012, I resolve to be better.  To let go.  And, cliche as it may be, to let God.  My number one resolution is to live within the moment.  To enjoy the here and the now.  {To try really, really hard} not to worry about what tomorrow will bring but instead to appreciate and enjoy today.  Hardships and all.

I’ve said it before: God whispers.  Truly, I believe it.  And if you were to ask me what God has been whispering to me lately, this is what I would tell you.

I would tell you that my good friend recently buried her dad.  He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died less than two weeks later.  I would tell you that a seventh grader at my daughter’s school was hit by an SUV on Thursday and died within hours.  I would tell you that around this same time last year an nine-year-old girl went to a Congress on the corner event here in Tucson and never made it home.

Thus my resolution.  It’s a big one, yes.  An important one.  One I hope to live up to.

What do you hope to change for the better as we begin anew?

Christmas–perhaps more than any other holiday–is seeped with rich tradition.  At least, it is in my house.  I thought I’d take a second to share some of our favorites with you.  I hope you’ll share back via the comments; I absolutely love hearing how Christmas celebrations differ from one family to the next.

1. Divinity
I can’t think of a single other food item that takes me back to my childhood quite so much as divinity.  My Grams has been making this old-fashioned candy for as long as I can remember.  I can’t begin to guess how many billowy pieces I’ve snuck from the crystal platefuls she used to set out come holiday time.  Unfortunately, we don’t live all that close anymore, and it’s been a long, long time since I’ve laid eyes on her two-tier serving piece–the cloud-like divinity resting alongside perfect squares of fudge.  Lucky for me, I’ve, ahem, acquired her hand-written recipe.   The recipe alone probably would do me no good, had she not walked me through the process some years ago.  Making divinity, my friends, is no easy feat.  Of course, the version I make at home lacks a little something; it will never taste as sweet as the stuff I remember eating at Gram and Gramp’s house, by the twinkling lights of their Christmas tree.  Sigh.

2. The Reason
When I was little, both my mom and dad’s families lived within minutes of us.  And so our Christmases were split right down the middle; Christmas morning was spent with my mom’s parents while we’d spend Christmas Eve scrunched into my Grandma Ezell’s teeny tiny apartment with all of my aunts, uncles and cousins.  We’d eat olives from our fingers and tear through gifts and then spend the rest of the night playing with our loot.  But each and every year, my mom would make an early departure, taking my brothers and I to church for the candlelight service.  We never wanted to go; there was too much fun to be had with the cousins we left behind.  But all of these years later I can truthfully say that I’m thankful for the foundation my mom built in us by taking us to church–instead of allowing us to revel in our gifts.  There are those to whom Christmas means little more than a jolly old gift-giver and tinsel on the tree.  I am not among them.

3. Anonymous Gifts
This is something I started doing right around the time my kids learned to read.  I purposefully left the names off the gifts that were placed under our tree.  I quickly learned that those cute little To and From tags elicited increasingly more hype around the presents whereas I wanted the emphasis to be on the birth of baby Jesus, quality time spent with loved ones, and quiet reflection on the gifts we’ve already been blessed with.  I have my ways of remembering which package belongs to whom, but I keep that information to myself until Christmas morning.

4. Doogan
I think Torri was about four the first time our elf, Doogan, paid us a visit.  He came the day after Thanksgiving, though we never saw him.  Instead, he snuck in and out, stealthily leaving behind Christmas ornaments for the girls along with a little note reminding them to mind their P’s and Q’s as Christmas approached.  He’s been coming every year since then, always leaving behind a shiny new ornament and a note.  Funny thing is, even after all these years, he cannot seem to get the spelling of the kids’ names right.  Silly old elf.   Each year, when the kids pull out their ornament boxes, they get to read over letters past; it’s always entertaining.  This year, Doogan decided to show himself and stay awhile.  He still came bearing ornaments and notes, but this year he’s taken to hiding in a different spot each day.  The {little} kids LOVE looking for him each morning.

It’s your turn.  I really want to know what your holiday traditions are.  I once wrote an article for a local publication highlighting the various Christmas traditions carried out by local families.  It was so fun!  So, do tell.  As long as you’re okay with me zoinking your idea and maybe trying it out next year ;)

With the big day just eight days away, I’ve finally settled on a menu for our Thanksgiving dinner.  Our holiday spread will look something like this:

Signature Drink
- caramel apple cocktail

Appetizers
- Deviled Eggs
- Parmesan-Crusted Chèvre Cheese with baguette slices
- Zebra popcorn

Main Course
- Brined turkey with homemade gravy

Sides
- Make-ahead mashed potatoes
- Sweet potatoes with candied pecan topping
- Corn bread stuffing
- Blackberry cranberry sauce
- Knotted dinner yeast rolls
- Green bean casserole (from scratch)
- Roasted carrots
- Garlic-Herb compound butter, Honey butter

Dessert
- Bobby Flay’s pumpkin bread pudding

What will your Thanksgiving look like?  Are you hosting?  Do you have a “signature” dish?  Or do you stick with traditional favorites like I do?

It was a festive weekend around these parts.  Costumes were worn.  Pumpkins were carved.  Cookies were baked.

Our neighborhood threw a Halloween festival.  Some of you might meet this little tidbit with a shrug of the shoulders and a nonchalant, eh.  For us, though, it was totally newsworthy.  You see, we live in the desert.  And by that I mean to say that we–quite literally–live in the desert.  Not desert like Las Vegas with it’s flashy towering hotels and swimming pools with swim up bars.  Our desert is nothing like that.  Our back forty is populated with cacti and rattlers.  A month or so ago there was a big hairy tarantula in my garage.  You get my drift?  Des-ert.  So any festivities planned and executed by the HOA out here in no man’s land is worthy news.

Before the festival on Saturday, Jeff took to carving pumpkins.  He was mighty successful in the endeavor, too.  See?

And then on Sunday we went to the early service at church so that we could come home and have the whole day to bake cookie treats (not tricks!) for the small army of teachers, paras, therapists and bus drivers that help care for our children day in and day out.  If you were here, I’d offer you one.

Tonight we’re having turkey chili from the crock pot with cheddar scallion cornbread on the side.  Oh, and hot apple cider.  I picked some up fresh from the orchard when Jayce’s class visited the pumpkin patch.

Life is good, friends.  Happy Halloween.

PS.  Do you have a Halloween dinner tradition?  Care to share it with me?

Four years ago today I turned twenty-ten.  I couldn’t come to terms with the word, ahem, thirty, so twenty-ten it was.

Today, I’m thirty-four.  And really?  I’m practically giddy about it because at some point over the last four years I lost track of my age and for the whole of 2011 I’ve considered myself thirty-four.  So–as you might imagine–having a birthday and turning not thirty-five, but thirty-four (again! still!) is not at all a bad thing.

Is thirty-four midlife?  Because if so, it would make sense that during the last couple of weeks I’ve been struggling in very much a mini midlife crisis sort of way.  You see, it has long been a dream of mine to see my own printed words all bound and tidy within the cover of a dreamy novel on a Borders bookshelf.  Alas, that hasn’t happened yet.  And–given the current state of Borders (among other things)–it’s not likely to, at least not anytime soon.

Though I’m deeply disheartened–in a very omnipresent, gray and heavy kind of way–I count myself richly blessed.  And on this non-momentous, yet still celebrate-y kind of day, especially so.

I might never see my book on those shelves.  True story.  Even so…

Within these 34 years, I found my way through being sixteen and pregnant.  And I’m all the stronger for it.

I went on to birth four absolutely breathtaking individuals.  Including the one who has stretched my limits further than I ever imagined possible.

I found happiness with a man I truly believe was meant for me.

So what if Borders went out of business before I made it there.

Maybe I just wasn’t dreaming big enough.

I’ll work on it.

In the meantime…Happy birthday, dear me.

And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going shopping today.  By myself.  Gonna treat me to a Starbucks while I’m at it.  Cheers, friends.  Here’s to forgetting the number in March so that I’m pleasantly surprised again next year ;)

This past weekend was full of birthdays.  Two of Jayce’s friends had parties on Saturday.  Jayce’s fifth birthday was Sunday, but we celebrated on Friday night.  We had dinner and cake with three friends from the nieghborhood, which–in spite of the three’ness of it–was really was quite perfect in every way.  We don’t do well with huge gatherings {family get-togethers excluded} so having three kids over was right up our alley.  On Saturday we attended the much more populated super hero themed party of one of Jayce’s preschool BFF’s and–accustomed to our much smaller events–he asked, “why were there so many people there?”  :)

There isn’t much to say, so I’ll just share some photos from the day.  Enjoy!

In planning our trip to Durango I came across many a recommendation to spend our 4th in Silverton.  It’s an itty bitty mining town that boasts the “largest fireworks display on Colorado’s western slope.”  Unfortunately, I can’t speak to aforementioned fireworks display because we didn’t stay long enough to experience it.  We were present, however, for the parade, ducky derby and rhubarb festival.  Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Silverton is about an hour drive from Durango.  It’s an incredibly scenic drive.  Just gorgeous.  We got all dolled up in our patriotic digs before rushing off to Silverton so as to be there on time for the 10 A.M. start of the parade.  As it turned out, though, our rush was all for naught.  The parade was actually an hour late starting, which probably wouldn’t have been as big a deal if we weren’t set up in full sun along the parade route for an hour.  Eighty degrees seems pretty mild, but when you’re baking in the sun it’s not entirely pleasant.

Finally, the festivities kicked off and the procession began.  It was cute-ish.  There was lots of candy being thrown and flags being handed out.  Suspiciously lacking were horses, marching bands of any kind, and kids with red, white, and blue crepe paper strung through the wheels of their bicycles.  That’s not to say that there weren’t any kids in the parade.  There were.  Vicious little buggers wielding water guns.  I swear their sole purpose in life was to thoroughly soak the innocent bystanders lined up along the parade route.  Bit I digress.

*This was the firefighter fight at the end of the parade, but the squirt gun kids were every bit as vicious letmetellyou.

I’d read about a rhubarb festival after the parade at Memorial Park.  Not knowing precisely where Memorial Park was, Jeff found a tourism office and poked in to inquire.  {Little aside here: Silverton is a mile-long town.  For reals.  That little detail will come into play momentarily}.  Upon seeing an attendant inside the tourism office, Jeff asked where we might find Memorial Park.  Guess what the man said.  He said, “Oh, we sell maps right back there.”  No joke.  Maps.  Of Silverton.  The mile long town.

Can you even believe that the dude wouldn’t just offer some friendly navigational assistance?  Rather than try to sell us a map of their stinkin’ mile-long town?!  It rubbed us wrong, in case my tone left any doubt.

We opted to forgo his silly little map and live on the edge.  We found Memorial Park alright.  It was the mile down the street on the left.

I wish I could say our day improved from there, friends,  but alas, not so much.  Their “rhubarb festival” actually consisted of a solitary tent erected in the park from which they were pushing $25.00 rhubarb pies.  Twenty-five bucks!  Again, not joking.

Not quite that hungry, we decided instead to purchase some cheese and crackers from the grocery store.  We walked that same mile all the way back to the end of the town street again before we found a market.  By that point I shouldn’t have been surprised to find that a box of crackers was priced at $6 and an 8 oz. block of squishy (ew) cheese at $7.  We paid the stinkink’ $13 begrudgingly and walked the mile back to the elusive Memorial Park.

By this point my affinity for quaint little Silverton was growing cold and it was barely three o’clock.  Considering the fireworks display was not scheduled to begin until 9:45 (and we all know how timely their parade had been), we opted to blow Silverton and head back to Durango where hospitality wasn’t in so short a supply.  As we neared the end of that mile I rolled down my window and boldy yelled, “your festival stinks”.  Oh yes I did.

Back in Durango a street dance was underway.  We boogied in the street like nobody was watching.  Okay, not really.  But there was some dancing.  Red, white, and blue beads and all.

The moral of my story is this: if ever you find yourself on Colorado’s western slope come 4th of July, just call me for directions to the park. :)

Did ya miss me?

We were off gallivanting in Colorado for the 4th.  It was awesome, let me just say.

Here in the desert there are certain things that are few and far between.  Grass and trees and water being among them.  But in the high country of colorful Colorado those things are aplenty.  It’s gorgeous.  And chock full of opportunities for adventure (which we took full advantage of, btw).

My mom–who currently resides in Denver–met up with us and stayed for four of our six nights.  We stayed at a KOA kabin (yes ‘k’abin) in Durango.  It was all Hannah Montana-esque what with its best of both worlds.  We had a wooden roof over our heads to protect us against those afternoon thunderstorms and an air conditioner pumping all the while.  Still, it resembled camping because there was a noticeable lack of indoor plumbing and kitchen facilities.  We cooked over both an open fire and a camping stove propane flame.  We laughed late into the night under the endless stars.  We played charades (albeit the iPod app version) and frisbee.  We feasted on campfire foil packets (a la Girl Scouts) and S’mores.

It was a wholesome, outdoorsy family time.  It was awesome.  Truly, wholly awesome.

Awesome in part for what I referred to as our “excursions”.  On our first day there we took to the Animas River (river of lost souls for those who are wondering) for some whitewater rafting.  They totally freaked us out with their spiel about falling in and forty degree water temps and overturned rafts.  Together with that whole ‘lost souls’ bit it was unnerving.  But in the end, it was a totally mild adventure.  There was one point at which Jayce had to exit the raft while the rest of us braved a gnarly rapid but otherwise, totally mild.  And totally worth the price we paid.  The gnarly rapid was a definite highlight.

Here are some pics for your viewing pleasure.

Back tomorrow with some more pictures and tales from our trip…

Merry Christmas, friends.

I’m checking out for the holiday season.  {But not for good}.

All the best to you and yours.  From me and mine.

See you in January.